


Nothing But a Monster

by AgentCatt



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Hatred, road to recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-05 04:05:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12786597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentCatt/pseuds/AgentCatt
Summary: Locus had a bad night. Smashed a mirror. Wash takes the blame for it. Wash gives Locus some advice, but it's only the beginning, so Locus won't believe a single thing Wash tells him just yet.





	Nothing But a Monster

Locus stares at his shirtless self in the mirror. Able to see every outline of his ribs. The muscle not nearly as defined as it used to be. 

He touches his ribs slowly. Feeling every single one. Getting more and more disgusted as he keeps going. He let himself get this bad. Only eating when he really had to. Once a day. One packet of MRE’s. It became just enough. All he needed.

Locus looks up. Anger, sadness, frustration, and disgust show on his face. His neatly scared face. The face he tries to show more often. To show he's not just a monster hiding behind a helmet.

But that's just what he sees. Partly what Agent Washington told him he was. A monster on a leash. Or… What he used to be. Yet it still seems like it’s there when it’s not.

Without thinking, Locus punches the mirror. A few pieces crash to the ground as the rest is too cracked to use anymore.

He looks at his hand. Knuckles slightly bleeding. He is not a puppet. He is not on a leash. Not anymore.

He takes a deep breath and washes his hand gently. When finished, he walks over to the bench. He puts on a tank top. 

Locus sits down, letting his head fall into his hands. Closing his eyes. 

“I am not a monster,” he whispers to himself.

“No, you're not. Not anymore.” 

Locus looks up to see Wash standing at the entrance.

“Sorry, didn't mean anything. Just heard, well, that.” Wash points to the mirror. “Donut isn't going to be happy about that,” he sighs. “You okay?”

“I'm fine. You can leave.” 

“I don’t think you are…” Wash cautiously walks him. He doesn’t really know how to comfort, but he doesn’t want to leave Locus alone. Especially not right now. 

“I’m fine,” Locus insists, getting up and turning away from Wash.

“No, you’re clearly not. Locus-”

“Leave. Now.” Locus turns on his heel, pointing at the door. 

Wash stands there for a moment before turning to leave. Before he leaves, he tells Locus that he’s not alone. Only to be left alone seconds after.

Locus’ composure crumbles. He leans against the wall to control his descent down. Tears fall down his cheeks. Nobody is there for him. Even if he let Wash stay, he couldn’t show him this part of him. He couldn’t let any of them know this. Let them know what Felix has done to him mentally and physically.

 

By morning, Locus had everything cleaned up in the bathroom and headed back to bed. He’d only been in bed for approximately half an hour before he heard Donut get up and head out. He turns his back to the room, hiding his hand that would give away what he did.

He can hear Donut coming back to the room, asking a few of the others if they know anything about the smashed mirror.

“Wash!” Locus tenses up. He’s the only one that knows he broke the mirror. “Do you know anything about the broken mirror?” 

“Um,” Wash hesitates. He’s going to tell him Locus did it, isn’t he? “You see, I uh, I had a bad night last night. I’m- I’m sorry. I should’ve got someone up instead. I’m gonna find a replacement mirror.” Locus relaxes.

“Oh Wash! Are you okay? Don’t worry about the mirror!” 

“I’m fine now, Donut. Thanks. But I will make sure I find another one.”

“You sure?” 

“It’s the least I can do.” 

Locus searches his mind, trying to find out why Wash would take the blame like that. Why would he? It’s not like he had to, so why did he do it. He has nothing to gain from it. He could’ve just told Donut that it was all his fault, but didn’t. He didn’t. He has to thank him.

He gets up and gets dressed quickly before Donut enters. He hides his hands in his pocket. 

“Good morning, Locus!” Donut tells him when he sees Locus is up.

“Morning,” Locus reluctantly says back. 

Locus leaves the room, hoping to see Agent Washington to thank him, but he’s not around. He wanders around, slowly making his way to the mess hall. He’s trying to waste time so he can catch Wash outside the mess hall instead of going in. He didn’t take in account of the others catching up to him.

“Hey Locus!” Grif announces himself. “You heading to get something to eat too?” 

“Yes,” Locus lies. 

“Cool, you can sit with us.” He goes back to talking to Simmons. 

Locus doesn’t listen to anything they say. When they get to the mess hall, he’s pretty much forced inside. He spots Agent Washington right away. He manages to separate himself from the Reds and sits across from Wash. 

“You should eat,” Wash doesn’t even look up at him. He just continues eating. “I could tell last night you haven’t been eating enough.”

Well, now Locus doesn’t want to say anything to him. If he’s going to talk about this. 

“Hide your hand,” Wash points to Locus’ left hand. “I didn’t know you were left handed.”

Locus hides his hand. “Ambidextrous, but dominate left handed.”

“Learn something new every day,” now Wash is looking at him. “Seriously, go eat before you get too weak and pass out at the slightest task. Cause then you’ll get hooked up to a couple of different IV’s and if bad enough, a feeding tube. Yes, I speak from experience.”

Locus doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what to think. Why would he give up this information to him? It doesn’t make sense to him.

“I will get Grey involved if you don’t. It’ll help you mentally to eat right, too.” 

“Why did you tell Donut you broke the mirror?” Locus asks, ignoring Wash.

“Because if you don’t want to talk to me about it, you sure as hell don’t want to have them constantly asking questions about it. Also speaking from experience on that one.” 

“Thank you for that,” Locus looks down at the table. 

“You don’t have to thank me. Just, please. Go eat. You don’t have to ever explain anything to me, just take care of yourself. It’ll benefit you.”

Locus doesn’t move yet. Wash seems caring. Like he wants Locus to get better. But what exactly is better?

“You were right saying we’re alike,” Wash begins. “You’re more on my level now than before. When I was first on my own, I didn’t eat. I thought I didn’t deserve it. Then when the Blues adopted me, I still thought I didn’t deserve their food. That’s theirs. But you can’t let yourself think that. That’s how you end up in the hospital connected to a bunch of shit.”

Locus sighs, getting up. Wash isn’t going to leave him alone about eating, so he goes to get him something to eat. He sits back down in front of Wash instead of with the Reds when they called for him to sit there.

“Thank you,” Wash smiles.

Locus slowly eats what’s on his tray. He’s noticing how everyone else around him keeps glancing his direction, still afraid of him. Afraid of the monster he is. The monster he always will be. No matter how much Wash tells him otherwise. He’ll always be nothing but a monster.


End file.
